99 Bottles
by azenthar
Summary: [Oneshot] Axel is bored and hungry, so he bothers his friend to lessen his boredom. [Dialogue]


"Hey, Roxas?"

"Yes?"

"I'm bored. What should I do?"

"Have you ever _tried_ looking for something to do?"

"Yes."

"Then why are you bothering me about you being bored then?"

"Well…I tried playing poker with Luxord, but that didn't work. I could've sworn he was cheating since every time we played, I would lose, so I gave up. I made Naminé cry after breaking fifteen of her coloured pencils on accident. Xigbar came up with a creative little game called 'Shoot the Red Moving Target', but – hey, why are you laughing?"

"…sorry. It's just…hmnph, what was the target?"

"Oh come on. With this flaming bright red hair, you can't guess _what the target was?_"

"I was only kidding. Ha, 'Shoot the Red Moving Target', sounds fun."

"Yeah, ha ha. You sadist…"

"I am no sadist."

"You could pretty much pass for one."

"Why can't you bother someone else then?"

"But there _is_ no one else to bother! Larxene won't put her goddamn book down. Demyx is at Atlantica. Lexeaus…ha, don't get me started on that fellow. He can't tell the difference between a spoon and a fork, so there's no point on turning to him."

"And what about Zexion, Xaldin, and the other people? Why choose me of all the rest?"

"Because. Zexion is no where near to the definition of fun. Xaldin creeps me out. Xemnas preaches to his mirror about darkness all day. I'm as good as dead when it comes to Saïx. Vexen is too old to even get the jokes that I am telling him. And Marluxia…Marluxia is an ass."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that behind his back. He'll slaughter you."

"Ooh…I'm scared of big, bad nancy boy. Maybe me being slaughtered to miniscule pieces of chopped-up flesh will put me out of my misery of being so bored. Thanks, Roxas, that's a great idea! You are such a great friend!"

"Don't be such an idiot."

"Fine. Do something so I won't be bored."

"Like what? Juggle for you while balancing on a ball?"

"That would be nice."

"Not going to happen."

"Darn! Well…we can both – I know! We can go somewhere to eat. I am hungry."

"First, you complained about being bored. Now, you are hungry? Why am I not surprised?"

"So where do you want to go? How about that one café around the corner of Station Heights at Twilight Town?"

"No. Too far."

"You are such a lazy ass."

"And you, my friend, are an idiot with red hair. Now go play with your fire and set something ablaze."

"Ha, ha. Been there, done that."

"Great, now what did you do?"

"You know Land of Dragons, right? Well, it just so happens that that place seems to be scattered with all sorts of fireworks. The mere sight was all too overwhelming for me to resist, so I –"

"Set each one of those fireworks on fire. Brilliant, something I _most_ expect from my pyro friend."

"And I got a thorough beating from the Emperor. Didn't like that…"

"Alas, your true I.Q. finally sprouts out from within, shining to those who know you all too well."

"You're mean."

"I know."

"So how about that new restaurant that opened up, then? We could eat there."

"Whatever."

"What do you want to eat?"

"Uh…I don't know. A…hamburger?"

"Great! I'll have one, too…with cheese!"

"And I thought you were anorexic…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What about a drink?"

"…beer?"

"BEER? You're too young to have that."

"I'm sixteen years old."

"You lie. You're fifteen, not sixteen."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"Idiot."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"So…do I still get that beer?"

"No."

"Damn."

"Roxas?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you for making me...unbored by joining me for Lunch. If that makes any sense and if unbored is even a word..."

"Right. Your welcome."

"…"

"…"

"So…how about a game of 'hit Lexeaus with a stick and run' after this?"

"If you mean by running away from the very man that can kill us with one big belly flop, then sure. Why not?"

"Sweet."

* * *

**A/N**: This fic has no point whatsoever. But I had to get it out of my system.

In Germany, you can drink once you're sixteen. I dunno what age in America though, so yeah.


End file.
